Riddle Me No More
by Sylvantis
Summary: My first fan-fiction. A.U. The Riddler has been released from Arkham Asylum seemingly cured and has begun work as a P.I. But can he really overcome his deep-rooted compulsions? Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

It had been three years since Edward Nigma was released from Arkham Asylum. He had realized that he had a problem after his last battle of wits with Batman. Despite his best efforts he was unable to refrain from leaving a riddle at the crime scene. It was time for him to change. He wanted to become whole again.

It had been a long and difficult road to recovery but Edward Nashton, he had returned to his original surname, was determined to rid himself of his obsession with puzzles. Every day for two years in Arkham he worked with psychologists and actively took their advice. The final piece of his recovery happened when he returned to his home from the asylum. He rid his home of all the puzzle books and his question mark attire. It was time for him to start a new chapter of his life.

He had decided to once again become a Private Investigator. Despite his puzzle compulsion being cured his narcissism was still intact and he wouldn't lower himself to do physical labor. The biggest problem with his new transformation was that most of Gotham was well aware of his criminal past and there were few people who were willing to forget the antics of this once notorious villain. As a result the work was tedious and dull. But at least it was an exercise in his reasoning skills and proving that he was smarter than the people that needed his aid was always a treat.

Edward sighed as he eyed the clock. It was nearly seven in the evening. If someone was going to come to his office they would have come much earlier than this. Edward began to put his things away in his desk when there was a knock at the door.

"Please come in," he said as the door slowly opened.

"Mr. Nigma?" said a soft-female voice.

"It's Mr. Nashton now dear. I've left that persona long behind me," he said as he gave a small smile to the young woman. Edward had to admit that she was quite lovely. She wore a conservative white dress which was accented by her jet black hair. Her sweet blue eyes looked innocent and pure.

"Please take a seat," he said gesturing towards one of the wooden chairs opposite his desk.

She sat down and clasped her hands. Edward noted that her breathing was slow and methodical, not natural. She was clearly trying to keep herself calm. He wished that she would just spit it out. The way she looked it was clear it was a lost puppy or wayward lover. Nothing that would be worth his full-attention anyway.

"My name is Emily Terry. My sister Jess committed suicide two days ago," she said, "She wasn't depressed. I would have known."

"You believe someone wanted her dead?" Edward asked. It was most likely nothing more than it appeared, Ocham's Razor and all. Though it was the most interesting case he'd had in the past three years and so he'd indulge her obvious denial.

"I do," she said. Edward could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He hoped she didn't cry. He never really cared much for women when they cried. It was always an uncomfortable position to be in and Edward hoped that Emily would have the courtesy to refrain from crying at the moment.

"You realize that she most likely did kill herself correct?" Edward said as he took a pencil from the desk.

"I knew my sister. She wouldn't do something like that," Emily insisted.

"My dear. This is a dark city and everyone has their secrets. The heart of Gotham's citizens is a riddle vast and mysterious," Edward said as he twirled the pencil around in his fingers.

"I can pay you. I just can't accept that she'd do something like this," she said.

"You don't believe that Gotham's finest were able to suitably handle this?" Edward asked.

"To be frank Mr. Nashton, no. And well, you're one of the smartest men, if not the smartest, in Gotham. I figured if you can't find anything amiss then it must have been just a suicide," she said her face dropping towards her hands.

"Well then. We shouldn't waste any more time," he said taking a notepad and pencil from the desk. It was certainly refreshing to have someone that understood his brilliance. This young woman would soon be able to rest easy knowing that Edward Nashton was looking into her case.

"How much are you able to pay?" Edward asked. It was a business first and foremost after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily's hands trembled as she fumbled with the lock to her sister's apartment building. The door opened and Edward began to look around the apartment. There wasn't much to it, being a small studio apartment but Edward knew all too well that one seemingly insignificant detail could be the crux of a riddle.

"Did the police detect any signs of forced entry on the door?" he asked her.

"No they didn't. The door was locked when they got here," she said. It made sense. The victim wouldn't want anyone barging in on her when she was going to off herself. Edward almost hoped that there would be something that would make this case worth the fifteen minute walk from the office.

Edward walked the window. There were no fingerprints on the outside and the lock wasn't broken. The entire house was neat and organized, so there wasn't any sign of a struggle. The thing out of place in the house was blood on a chair and the carpet.

"Who discovered the body?" Edward asked.

"I...I did," Emily replied.

"And where did you find the body?"

"Right there," she said pointing to the chair that was stained with her sister's blood.

"Do you have a copy of the police report?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes. Here," Emily said as she rifled through her purse for a moment. She handed a few folded pages to Edward.

"One bullet shot to the chest, point blank rage, victim's prints on gun..." Edward read aloud.

"This looks pretty cut and dry Emily," he told her. Edward knew that this was going to be a waste of his talents but at least it was better than staking out the sleazy motels around Gotham.

Edward was about to hand her back the report when he paused for a moment.

"No gunpowder residue on hands," Edward said. He mouthed the words a few more times just to ensure that he was understanding this correctly.

"Emily, was Jess wearing gloves when she killed herself?" He asked her.

"No, she wasn't why? Did you find something?" She asked her eyes filled with hope.

"Yes I think so. If she really did kill herself there should have been gunpowder residue on her hands. I'm going to need to examine the body but you may just be right," he said. It felt odd admitting that to someone who was clearly far less intelligent than himself. He reasoned that it was just a lucky guess after all even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

"I was going to go to the funeral home tomorrow to make the final preparations for the wake. We wanted to do it as quickly as possible," she said.

Edward scribbled down his phone number on a piece of paper and meticulously tore it out of the notepad before handing it to Emily.

"Give me a call before you head out. I'll need to come. If she really was murdered I'm going to need to see the body," Edward told her. Emily reached for the paper and her hand brushed against Edaward's.

"Thank you Mr. Nashton. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help," she said.

"Of course you do Emily. You didn't come to me because I was a second-rate investigator like Gotham's Finest," he said.

"You really are as smart as they said you were," she said staring deeply into Edward's eyes.

"Oh please. I'm much smarter than that," Edward said taking her arm and leading her out of the apartment. Edward's mind began to process all of the information he had gleaned from the crime scene. His mind swirled in thought as the two walked down the street together. It had been five years since he felt suitably challenged. This was promising to be a case that would at the very least force him to give it more than a moment's thought. This riddle was going to be fun to unravel.


End file.
